


purple lips (underwater)

by dottori



Series: let me love you [3]
Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Boys In Love, Established Relationship, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Making Out, Skinny Dipping, Stargazing, Swimming Pools, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, but they make out in peace for longer this time, sobbe go to /that pool/ again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:44:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22371688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dottori/pseuds/dottori
Summary: it’s a sunny, warm friday at the beginning of march, and sander wants them to go for a swim.
Relationships: Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans
Series: let me love you [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1548625
Comments: 16
Kudos: 176





	purple lips (underwater)

**Author's Note:**

> i'm having the worst writer's block to ever exist. so, to force me out of it, i wrote plotless fluff for myself, boohoo the clown, who always wants sobbe fluff to read. this isn't really that good but whatever. it's a miracle in itself that i finished this.
> 
> this is set on the sixth of march, which so happens to be the four month anniversary of robbe's and sander's first kiss, btw.
> 
> enjoy!

It’s become easy for Robbe to tell when Sander is onto… _something_.

Perhaps it’s one of those skills that come with being in a relationship for long enough that people talk about, and he never understood until now: like knowing how they make their coffee, or somehow being able to tell when they’re getting the flu.

They have been together for roughly three months and some change—they went back and forth about a date for a while. Robbe believes it’s been less than that, but Sander looked all cute and fake offended when he said so, sternly mentioning how “I saw you under the moonlight like, _forever_ ago,” and it’s useless to argue with Sander when he’s looking at him like _that_, relentlessly tickling him into agreeing. In the end, they compromised for that Friday night when Sander said how it's just the two of them, in every universe.

Either way, this is the longest Robbe's dated anyone in his sixteen summers alive. He is no expert and he’s learning as they go, but Robbe is starting to _get_ Sander. It’s a work in process, very slowly and tentative, but deft all the same.

So, when Sander walked him to school this morning and they kissed goodbye before parting ways, Robbe just knew his boyfriend was planning something.

Sander is whimsical, floaty and mercurial, often perhaps capricious and reckless. Robbe doesn’t mind Sander whisking him away into their own adventures. He’s come to even anticipate them—be it an escapade to Brussels in the middle of the week for a nice Valentine’s day dinner, an impromptu weekend at that beach where they met, or hours riding the train around Antwerp with no destination, just for the sake of spending time together alone.

He’s all about surprises, creating new memories and traditions and things to call theirs. There’s never a dull day with Sander around, and while it all may just be Robbe’s pink tinted look at the world since falling in love for the first time—an universe where everything is exciting and new, addicting and perfect—he likes to indulge Sander in his daring, garish way of living and loving.

Today is no exception.

**Sander**

19:36

so what’s up

what’s up with what?

you’re planning something

what if i am?

i’m right then?

maybe

so that’s sanderish for yes

you know me so well baby ❤

i try ❤❤

or you’re getting predictable

which can’t be good

oh that isn’t good at all

all the more reasons for you to meet me tonight

are we going to that penthouse again?

wouldn’t you like that? 😏

i’m not saying no 😘

we haven’t been alone like that in a while anyways

damn i wish we could now

but we’re doing something cheaper

and arguably better

better than sex in an overpriced hotel room?

you’ve piqued my interest now mr. driesen

then meet me at our place in half an hour mr. ijzermans

and i’ll give you something even more special 😘

okay

see you there ❤

❤❤❤

As February passes by and spring blossoms to life, the days become warmer and longer, somehow brighter and more colorful—the sky full of all the pretty hues of pink and orange and red.

It’s the first Friday of the month, and also the first sunny day in a long time. Robbe can finally dress lighter and ride down the familiar path towards the art academy without feeling the cold breeze making his face hurt and turning his lips purple and tingly.

Robbe recognizes Sander’s bike and so, he stops there by the graffiti, looking at it for a second with the ghost of a smile. Distractedly, Robbe's scrolling down his contacts while also fumbling with the lock when a pair of leather-clothed arms curl around his middle and a chin rests on his shoulder.

Well-known lips brush tenderly at his cheek, and a smile blossoms on his features as an even more unmistakable voice gets closer to his ear: “I’m still bitter you have me as just _Sander_ and I have you as a heart in my phone.”

At this point, Robbe barely startles when Sander appears out of nowhere, and it’s an unconscious reaction of his body to lean heavier against his boyfriend, standing chest to back as he looks up at him. Robbe laughs at Sander’s pouty lips and voice as he cradles his jaw, softly turning Sander's face closer to kiss him properly, short and sweet.

Sander’s sigh flutters his chest and tickles at Robbe’s spine. A grin mirrors the wide smile of his own, and they hug each other impossibly closer. “But I like your name,” Robbe mumbles into their chaste kiss, and he slowly turns around inside Sander’s embrace to rest their foreheads together.

Robbe looks at the other boy’s shiny red lips, and then back up into his eyes, and asks with his voice rich of teasing, if a little breathless still: “What do you want me to change it for?”

Sander frowns, seizing their mouths for a gentle peck. "It wouldn't be special if I tell you. You have to choose something for me," he says, tastes his lips again once, twice and adds: "I came up with a heart all on my own. It has a _meaning_."

That playful smirk is something else Robbe got acquaintance with. Sander gets like this when he wants Robbe to play along: chest puffed out and chin tilted upwards, looking all proud. Green eyes twinkling cutely, noses nuzzling, brushing their lips closer together in an almost kiss that tastes dovelike; full of teasing and wide, cheeky smiles until one of them relents.

And as always, Robbe bites first. "Okay, _what_ does it mean?"

Sander lets his hands trail up his sides and down his waist, exploring. He clings onto the end of Robbe’s jacket to bring their hips flush together, and the grin that lights up his face is so beautiful and blinding that Robbe wouldn’t mind staring at it forever.

This minute, Robbe only wants to kiss it. And so, he does. 

“You’re my heart,” Sander says after they pull away, shrugging and trying to look aloof even if his boyish smile and short puffs betray him. “Just seemed fitting.”

Robbe snorts, because only Sander would come up with such sappy things to say. He's sort of used to them, not immune, though—Robbe still heats up and something flutters deep on his stomach, and maybe that’s just how being in love feels: somehow both well-known and brand new.

He caresses Sander’s pink cheeks before using them as purchase to bring their lips back together, mumbling a _cheesy_ into it that Sander counters with a _you love it_ that dies into their now mingled tongues.

It’s as easy as breathing to get lost into a kiss. Time stops and rewinds, everything important reduces itself within their attached mouths, and the world clicks just right. Kissing girls wasn’t like this and now that he’s got a taste of it, Robbe can’t get enough; it’s short pauses, deep breaths and diving in again, constantly, unable to let go for any longer, every time more amative than the last.

Sander acts as if they could kiss forever and nothing else would matter, and when they get like this Robbe would believe everything Sander breathes into the wind between their lips. However, they are in public. On a Friday night at that, and there’s always this constant buzz poking at the back of their minds even if they don’t want it to.

Robbe breaks away first, leaning against the bike racks while holding Sander’s hand. He breathes in, taking a moment to calm his thrilled heart and hormones before he smiles up to his boyfriend’s still dazed stare.

Sander grins. Pretty pink hues on his cheeks, his blonde hair looks fluffier and angelic under the streetlights, lips deep red and puffy. Robbe's heart speeds up when Sander brings their interlocked fingers up to kiss them, staring without shying away, entranced, lost in each other.

With some effort, Robbe detaches their hands and reaches for his bike. “So, where’s my surprise?” He raises one eyebrow with curiosity, fumbling to pass the lock around the sticks.

He doesn’t get too far, though, as Sander stops him while he reaches to grab his own bike out of the racks with a full gleamy smirk and eyes flashing with purpose. “C’mon, we’re going for a ride, cutie.” Sander announces proudly, stumbling a little as he climbs on his bike.

Robbe watches him struggle and giggles endeared, getting on top of his own bike and cycling around his boyfriend, waiting for directions. Sander checks something on his phone and a smile splits his features, full of mischief. “_Come_. We’re ready to pick up your surprise.”

“And where’re we going?”

“You’ll see._ Just come_.” Sander winks as he starts pedaling, and Robbe follows.

For the longest time, Robbe just basks in the excitement of being out with Sander without thinking too much of anything but his boyfriend, letting the world turn into background noise. They ride around for a while, talking about everything and nothing, unhurried, warm under the last rays of sun and watching the sky turn blue and fill with stars.

Sander stops by a convenience store for two six packs of the cheapest beers he could buy and some snacks, and they share them as they get back in the road.

The streets get emptier and emptier the darker it gets. Seven beers later, Sander gets past any self-consciousness, pulling his phone out to blast David Bowie, singing out as loud as he can. And the words merge together in such an incoherent mess that has Robbe laughing so hard he almost falls off his bike.

“Stop laughing!” Sander shouts, trying to get a hold of Robbe to either bring them closer for a kiss or to push him off—he’s not too sure. Robbe doesn’t risk it either way.

He drowns the last of the awful gin and tonic they’ve been passing around, pedaling faster and away from Sander’s grabby hands, his eyes watering as he laughs even harder when Sander almost trips off his bike trying to catch him. "_Baby_—stop laughing and get back here!"

“Nope. Stop being so fucking funny!”

They chase each other, skipping around the few people still on the streets, and when Sander finally latches onto his jacket, they fall sloppily off their bikes in a tangled mess, laughing out loud and making a fool of themselves. Maybe those beers really have gotten onto them.

“I fucking won!” Sander declares before crashing their lips together right there and then.

Laying chest to chest on the ground in the middle of a deserted kid’s park, kissing a bit rough for them to be in public—it seems so silly, but during this minute it doesn’t matter at all, nothing matters but Sander laughing so pretty, so unabashed into their kiss, even when they are smiling way too wide for it to be more than teeth and tongues.

It’s past ten when Robbe finally notices what’s been Sander’s plan all along. When the blonde guides them with their hands tightly interlocked in between their bikes and the tunnel starts getting to view, it all just clicks.

Robbe looks at Sander wide-eyed, almost bursting with excitement as they board the elevator. He opens his mouth to ask, but Sander kisses him silent, and he is quick to climb back on his bike and start pedaling down the tunnel as soon as the doors ding open, leaving him behind.

“C’mon, race you!”

It’s exhilarating. The now warm wind on his face, the tension on his legs when they beg for a break, the lump on his throat as they scream into the empty tunnel—Robbe thought it wouldn’t feel as new as it does; how something they’ve done before could change so much in a few months, and almost feel like the first time all over again. Sander always makes everything seem like the first and last.

Robbe feels free and stripped down, light as a feather under his skin and bursting with joy and _life, _happier than he’s ever felt as they race down, jokingly pushing each other, goofing around to get the other to laugh. Sander looks younger and even more beautiful like this, so happy it pours out of him, glowing with his own warm light and Robbe is attracted to it like a moth, stealing the same shy glimpses as months ago, but now filled with so many more emotions that they can’t be compared at all.

Even after Robbe catches onto Sander’s surprise, riding down towards the community pool still twists his stomach and makes Robbe lightheaded and fluttery for the best reasons.

Robbe hugs Sander from behind while the older boy works on getting the lock open, brushing kisses up and down the column of his neck. His hands boldly get under Sander’s shirt, petting low on his navel as their beer courage bursts all over the place.

Sander gaps. He turns around to kiss him fast and rough, only to as quickly step back and leave Robbe hanging, chasing for his lips with the faintest of whines, the kind that gets Sander instantly turned-on and needy—the twitch he makes right now proves it.

“_Ah_,” Sander moans, poorly acting disappointed and conflicted as he hovers their lips as close as he can without touching, groping low on the tail of his back. He pouts, eyes fixated at Robbe’s red and kiss-wet mouth. “But what about your _girlfriend_, Robbe?”

Robbe pokes at the blonde’s chest as Sander bites down a laugh, enjoying this too much. “Fuck off,” He says with no heat, grabbing Sander tightly by the hair, pushing him down for a kiss.

He coaxes Sander’s mouth wide open to suck at his tongue in that way he likes, dragging his bottom lip between his teeth. “I’m sure my _boyfriend_ doesn’t mind.”

Sander likes that answer. His eyes glint with joy and he crashes their lips back together with renewed eager. “I love you so damn much,” He pants, kissing him once more before turning around to get the lock open. “Now, stop distracting me. I want you naked in that pool as soon as possible.”

As they walk in, everything is the same, but so different all at once. The water looks freezing cold and gloomy just like a few months ago, beautiful and wistful, gleaming bright blue under the jet sky, and Robbe is ensorcelled as he sinks in the sight.

More stunning is the look of pure happiness on Sander’s face; his bleached blonde hair shimmers white, like a glittery halo that makes his eyes look even greener, shining pale emerald as he rests their heads together. Sander kisses the tip of his nose, the center of his forehead, the apple of his cheeks and the corner of his closed eyes, making his way to Robbe’s lips. 

“This’s your surprise,” Sander breathes hot and damp over his mouth, so close Robbe tastes his crooked smile and tongue when he runs it over his own lips, chasing the aftermath of their sloppy kiss.

“_And_, I even figured out when the last round of security guards came around, so we won’t get interrupted this time,” he adds with a peck and a cocky smile. “Aren’t I a good boyfriend?”

“I love you,” The words pour out in a sigh, effortless as ever, and Robbe hugs Sander closer by the shoulders, bodies flush against each other while they kiss again, open mouthed and heated. “You’re the best.”

Sander doesn’t wait to hug back even tighter, deepening their kiss. He wanders his hands under Robbe’s shirt, exposing half of his chest to the warm spring breeze, and he traces up his spine with feathery, tender touches that have Robbe shuddering, bowing his back to press harder against Sander.

“Better than whiskey and an overpriced hotel room?”

“No competition,” Robbe says, slowly getting his hands out of Sander’s hair despite his boyfriend’s moan of disapproval, running them down his neck and towards his shoulders to slide the leather jacket off. “Nothing compares to you.”

“Look who’s being sappy now,” Sander smirks, a perfect contrast under his soft, loving eyes. He shrugs off his jacket, letting it fall slack with a loud thud, before he helps Robbe with his own and reaches with steady hands to get their belts out of the loops. “I just wanted to get you naked and make out.”

Robbe laughs into their kiss, clutching Sander by the hips when his boyfriend gets a knee between his legs, teasing, yearning for contact. “As if you never get me naked—”

Robbe’s words dwindle into a whine when Sander dives towards his mouth again, tongue roaming around restlessly, as if it can't decide where to taste first or how to taste it all at once, as if it’s the first taste he’s ever gotten and Sander is starving, desperate for more. The sensation is overwhelmingly good, and in a heartbeat Robbe is kissing back just as hard.

After that initial gentleness, the rest of their clothes are wrenched off in a rush, maneuvering around so their lips can stay flush together in the process. And soon enough, Sander takes advantage of their deep kiss and embrace to let himself fall backwards on the water behind them, taking Robbe with him.

It might be a scarce sunny spring day at the beginning of March, but the water is freezing cold, even more so against how heated his body got after minutes of making out. A strong shiver travels down Robbe’s spine at the stark contrast.

“Fucking asshole!”

“Love you too, baby” Sander has the audacity to blow him a kiss, grinning from ear to ear as they float, like getting Robbe wet and cold is comedy for him. And maybe it is, because Robbe’s laughing before he can stop himself.

“C’mon, a rematch: who can hold their breath for longer. At three.”

Robbe nods enthusiastically, unable to back down the challenge when Sander’s looking at him confident and cocky. But then, he stops, raising his eyebrows and glaring at his boyfriend. “Are you going to fucking cheat again?"

Sander gasps. “_Cheat_? I never cheat! How could you say that?” Sander shrugs over the water, turning his lips upside down with an impish pout, fake sobbing and clenching a hand over his chest.

Robbe rolls his eyes and flips him off, which makes Sander break out in a sonorous, contagious laugh and splash his face with a handful of water. “Ready?”

“One, two and—_three_!”

The pool water is even colder as Robbe dives in. The world slows down, every second turning into an eternity, and when Robbe open his eyes only to find Sander already staring at him with a fond smile, just as those many moons ago, he forgets their game and there’s nothing he craves more than to kiss Sander silly, until they can’t think of anything else. He wants it so much Robbe aches with yearn.

The difference is that, this time—this minute and all the rest to come—Robbe doesn’t hesitate, his feelings are clearer than ever before, and Sander doesn’t have any reason not to reach out first himself, catching his hips and getting them chest to chest, close enough for Robbe to grab his cheeks and kiss him.

Underwater, the kiss tastes like winter and chlorine, eager and desperate, but all of that's soon overpowered by that Sander-filled taste against his tongue; bitter as beer, sweet as love, and that’s enough for Robbe to crave more and more.

They get back on the surface, taking one big hiccup of air before inevitably colliding again. Everything fast turns feverish and sloppy. Sander buries a hand deep on his wet hair, pulling at it as he tilts their heads perfectly for the kiss to deepen, tongues meeting in the middle. The other stays restless—it cradles his jaw, the fingers caress his cheekbones, then travel to play with his earring and down his neck to fumble with the clip of his chain, only to fall back into the water to circle around his waist, pushing their hips together.

Robbe whines at that sensation, wet skin grinding against each other, and he grabs tightly at Sander’s neck while slowly floating backwards, steering them together until his back finds the border and Sander corners his head between his arms, moaning as he crowds his whole body against Robbe’s, only then realizing how turned-on they actually are.

They part ways for a second, resting their foreheads together; wet fringes messing with each other. Robbe reaches to caress Sander’s forehead, tracing his browbone and grazing the blonde hair off his eyes. The gesture gains him a playful bop in the nose and the prettiest smile, Sander cradling their faces closer together.

“Who won this time?” Robbe asks, not once looking up at his boyfriend’s eyes, entranced by how red and wet and puffy and pretty his lips look, how he can still sense their lingering taste on his tongue, how bad he wants to kiss them again.

The blonde hums, nuzzling their noses together, taking a moment as if he’s actually thinking about it. “We can settle for a draw.” And then he’s bowing in again.

Sander gropes anything within reach: low on his back and hips, over his tailbone and down his thighs, brushing along his navel and Robbe can’t think of stopping him as he digs onto his legs to circle them around his waist.

“That good, huh?” Sander teases when his breath hitches, now mouthing and biting at his neck and collarbones, leaving red marks and small hickeys on his chest.

“_Chernobyl_.” Robbe whispers, running his tongue over Sander’s lips before biting down lightly, and that seems to finally break the dam.

The want ten-folds and they get bolder by the second—strokes get steadier, kiss get hungrier and messier, frantic and frenzied, tittering on the line between mere making-out and something else, something better. Any other time, at any other place, Robbe wouldn’t have cared. Here, after breaking into the community pool on a Friday night, Robbe can’t help but whine as Sander’s hands dip lower and between their stomachs.

Robbe pants a weak “_we can’t_” in between kisses, kneading gently at Sander’s nape and hair, and that’s enough for the blonde to retreat with a sigh and hoarse laugh, bumping their noses as they regain their breath.

They share a few last lingering kisses while untangling themselves before getting carried away. Sander drifts slowly to rest next to him against the wall, nestling his head between his elbows. Robbe leans his forehead against his shoulder, tracing the dimples and hollows on Sander’s back as they stay comfortably silent for a moment.

Eventually, Sander pushes himself up and out of the pool, offering Robbe a hand. They are fast to get their clothes back on, their jeans and shirts clinging onto their wet skin, but it’s too cold to stay naked right now, despite of the lingering heat dancing with the wind around them.

They lay down the ground on a pillow made of their jackets, snuggling close and sharing body heat, David Bowie playing softly from his speakers. Robbe hugs Sander’s waist as he rests his head over his boyfriend’s fast-beating heart, tracing up and down his chest and torso, relishing on the tender pink skin of his sides as Sander kisses his temple, petting his neck.

Silence is something new for them. Robbe’s found that sometimes, words aren’t needed between them. They just fit together, effortlessly, easy as blinking—Robbe just knows when Sander wants to feel him there, a tangible proof that Robbe is not leaving, but not so much talk. Sometimes, they can't talk enough, chatting late into the night; but others, like right now, to relish on each other’s company wholeheartedly, gentle touches and lingering kisses are more than enough.

Sander’s heartbeat and the frameless drawings he traces on his back work as a lullaby, but Robbe doesn’t want to doze off right now; he wants to stay with the blonde in this moment for a little longer, bask on the happiness and lingering yearn a little more.

Instead, Robbe stares up at the night sky that's lighting up the pool with a waning moon. And, this time around, even the stars look different.

“It really is spring,” he mutters, cuddling closer to Sander’s chest as he gazes up, amazed. The blonde hums, knitting his fingers on Robbe’s curls and nuzzling his cheek against the crown of his damp hair, looking up as well, voice not above a whisper. “How do you know that?”

“See the sky? it’s filled with spring constellations,” Robbe says, rearranging the arm trapped under Sander’s neck to point upwards. “The long one it’s called Lynx,” he traces with his finger the shape, slowly connecting the stars for Sander to follow.

A straight line and two opposite legs: “That’s Cancer.” A faint zigzag, and then a spiky curl, the diamond cross. Robbe circles the brightest white star he sees south on the sky—_Canopus_. “And that’s Carina,” He says at last, letting his hand flop back down to pet Sander’s scalp, and adds with a hushed laugh: “It looks like a tail.”

Robbe is fascinated by the universe—this and every other one. The stars, the different constellations and celestial bodies, the sun and the faint haze of the milky way. He knows Sander doesn’t like the sky as much; during the bad days, it makes him feel small and suffocated, insignificant perhaps compared with how vast it is. However, during a clear night like this, he can’t help but to gaze up, fishing for a star he doesn’t recognize.

When his attention drifts back to the boy beneath him, resting his chin on his chest, Robbe’s breath gets caught up at his throat. Sander’s hazed eyes boring into his look even prettier as they mirror the starry sky—red and blue and white sparkles between the blur of green. A soft smile blossoms on his lips, his sharp features catching the light as he leans in for a kiss, glowing warm and pliant. Their mouths slack open, lazy, familiar yet heart-fluttering all the same.

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” Robbe breathes, eyes remaining closed as they nuzzle their foreheads together.

“It is.” Sander agrees, but Robbe knows he’s not talking about the sky above them.

The blonde cradles his nape as they kiss, laying chest to chest in the ground and keeping them near and intimate even while they part for a breath, playing with the ruffled strands of hair. His hands slowly wander downwards, falling to touch low on his hips, under his shirt.

Robbe hums, letting Sander roll on top. He shifts to worships his boyfriend’s neck and cheeks, sucking lightly at the skin as a hue of pink creeps up, and kisses every mole and freckle he can reach, mottled all over like stardust, like the sky above them, and Sander gaps softly on his ear, encouraging, brushing his hands higher up his sides.

Sander snakes a hand between their bodies when Robbe bites down at the skin along his jaw harder than he intended to, and their laughs fizzle out against each other’s skin, blissed-out and dizzy.

“Are you cold?” Robbe asks into their hovering mouths before they dive for a slow kiss, feeling Sander’s cold lips against his and the small shiver he makes when Robbe drags his hands inside the collar of his shirt.

The blonde purrs and shakes his head, leaving fluttering kisses around his face. Robbe giggles, reaching to trace Sander’s cheekbones as they pull away; he looks at his puffy lips, and tilts his head to one side on the floor, ghostly brushing his fingers over Sander’s mouth.

“Your lips are purple.”

“Really?” Robbe nods, recognizing that glint of hunger on his boyfriend’s eyes—pupils dilated and irises turning dark green, alluring as ever.

Sander smirks. “Warm them up for me.”

And that, Robbe can do.

Turns out, good things can’t last forever. They learn the hard way, _again_.

Despite all of Sander’s good intentions and efforts to assure they wouldn’t get interrupted this time around, it’s well past eleven when a light shines through the door and a voice rumbles across the hallway, disrupting not only the little love-bubble enveloping them, but also their fast-becoming heated and handsy make-out session.

“Who’s there?!”

“Oh, shit. Fuck, _Sander._”

“Why right now? Fuck… C’mon—”

“Hey, wait!”

And like that, they are bolting out of the pool, running across the street and fumbling to get back on their bikes, riding as fast as their legs can manage and away from the police officer following them.

Maybe Robbe shouldn’t be laughing as hard as he is. Sander shouldn’t either, because here they are again: cycling in the middle of the night, wet and giddy, if so a little tipsy still, dropping their bikes to kiss against the nearest wall when longing stares get too much and the need grows unbearable. So stupidly similar, yet much different—they are different now, their feelings are, too.

That’s why, when Sander asks into their tangled mouths “_better than last time?_”, Robbe answers with “_no, this time’s different_,” and Sander agrees. Their first kiss will always be special, and today is as well but for completely distinctive reasons. So, they settle to call it a new tradition of theirs instead.

The remaining adrenaline fills their kiss as it quickens, tongues lapping against each other and hands digging hard for purchase.

“So, I may have lied,” Sander pants against the hollow of his throat, letting his weight rest on Robbe’s chin to catch a break after they grew too lightheaded.

Robbe takes a second to process what Sander said. “About?” He manages to get out, burying his nose onto Sander’s hair, still chlorine-scented and damp.

Sander tilts his head back upwards, letting their breaths mingle and lips brush in a ghostly touch. “That was just one part of your surprise.”

“What’s the other?”

“The _other’s_ that my mom's out for the night.” Sander smirks, giggling his eyebrows. He starts leading him off the wall and towards their discarded bikes, walking backwards as they keep kissing fully open-mouthed. “We have the house all for ourselves ‘til tomorrow.”

Robbe wants to roll his eyes at his silly expression: beaming gingerly, eager to get them home as fast as possible to finally finish what they started back at the pool, but he grows excited and pliant under Sander’s hands rather, rendered speechless. And somehow, Sander notices that, as if he reads his mind. Perhaps he's also starting to_ get_ Robbe.

“So, what do you say? Liked the surprise?”

_Of course, _Robbe thinks but doesn’t say. Instead, he sulks with a pout and a cartoonish shrug of his shoulders. “Don’t know. Maybe I need more convincing—”

Robbe says that knowing how Sander will react; he kisses him silent, grinning wide into it and pushing him back against the wall, bikes forgotten again. He says that because he knows Sander likes teasing and to be tempted back.

And he says that because Sander is _it_ for Robbe, _his person_, and he’s finally learning how he works, how to make him the happiest, and that’s the best feeling in the world.

(When he gets home the next morning, all jolly and impossibly more in love than yesterday and surely less than tomorrow, he changes Sander's contact to "_my person_" and screenshots it, sending it to him with: “_came up with something for you. what’s the teacher’s opinion?_” because that's the level of cheesy and helplessly romantic Sander would be all about.

Sander calls barely a minute afterwards, whispering a hurried _“I’m so in love with you. You’re my person, too_,” before hanging up with the promise of picking him up in an hour or so because he _needs_ to see _his person_ right now, and while Robbe didn’t expect any different from his boyfriend, he laughs pleased with himself, thrilled that Sander is as happy and in love as he is.)

**Author's Note:**

> robbe and sander are each other's person. don't @ me. they are soulmates and you can't change my mind. and did i change where they were planning to meet after that "our place" post? you bet your ass i did.
> 
> if they're cheesy, horny and in love on main, then so am i while i write them.


End file.
